


This Is My Winter

by anddirtyrain



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 4x10 spec, F/M, Paralysis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:51:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5537195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anddirtyrain/pseuds/anddirtyrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their limo gets ridden with bullets. They survive. It’s run of the mill for two members of Team Arrow. But this time, the consequences of the accident change Felicity’s life, and test her like never before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 “Felicity is out of surgery…They didn’t say what was wrong.”

 The flash of agony that runs through him when his sister says the words stops him. That same pain has been his fuel for the last hours, but now it just slows down his brain, his mind not wanting to catch up to what that may mean. He could still lose her. Even if her heart was still beating.

His perplexed expression prompts Thea to keep talking.

 “Her mom said she was stable, but...you should really get there.

 The second the words are out of his sister’s mouth he’s running to his bike, to the lair, hospital _, her_. The simple repetition is the only thing that makes sense in a world where Felicity’s voice is not in his ear while he wears the mask.

  

When Oliver sees Donna the resolve he has falters a little. Her eyes are glued to the floor in front of her, and she looks small in the empty hospital hallway. His spines curves forward with the weight of the hours they both spent in the ER –before he left to find Damien and make him pay, before he failed, _again_. _(He couldn’t even do that for her. He couldn’t protect her from the bullets, and he couldn’t get her justice afterward -and she does so much for the city and for him and what has he ever done for her?)_

 With her hair nearly obscuring all of her face, and the bright blue sweater…Donna resembles Felicity so much it makes his chest hurt.

 He slides into the chair next to hers.

 “Donna…”

 “Oh, Oliver.” She latches onto his arm, and he welcomes the feeling, the smell of her perfume and the disinfectant of the floor. It grounds him a little.

 “They said it just a matter of waiting now, until she wakes up.“

 He takes a deep breath.

“But she’ll wake up.”

 “Yes! Yes honey, they say she’ll wake up as soon as the meds wear off.”

 Before he knows it his arms are around her.

“There’s something else…”

 He pulls back, her tone of voice pumping dread through his veins.

 "The bullets…”

 His stomach drops.

"The damage to her spinal cord is permanent, she's never going to walk again."

  

X X X

 

“Oliver!”

Felicity wakes up gasping his name. Everything’s a blur as her eyes adjust to the bright lights overhead. All she knows is fear in her gut, how hot red pain ran through every nerve in her body, radiating from her side.

“Oliver!” She looks around wildly, and realizes she’s in a hospital bed, but when she tries to sit up her ribs protest the movement and she nearly rips out the IV in her arm.

There’s a pounding headache beneath her eyes, a needle is stuck in her arm and the room is far too bright, but…it’s a room. She’s alive.

The momentary relief disappears with the fact Oliver isn’t there. Soon enough it has her nearing a panic attack.

He was with her when it happened. They had been…They were on the road, and then Darhk‘s ghosts cornered them in the middle of the street and…gunfire. He covered her from the bullets. Rivulets of broken glass bounced off her glasses. It comes back to her in flashes.

She looks around, swallowing the sob trying to climb up her throat.

 He proposed. They were going home. And now she can’t find him.

 She strains her eyes, hoping for those nurse-call buttons she always saw on TV, but she can’t find one among the multitude of machines surrounding her bed. He necks feels tight and she can barely turn her head and, just, w _here is he?_

 She looks up when the door opens, hoping to find Oliver _._

  _“Dig,_ ” she gasps. His eyes get wide when he notices her speaking.

 “Oliver! Man, get in here!”

 And then he’s on the doorway, as huge as always, his presence filling every empty corner and blanketing with calm. He’s beautiful, and he's walking and it almost makes her want to cry. They’re okay. 

“Felicity.”

  _He’s okay he’s okay he’s okay_

 _“Oliver.” S_ he finally breaths when his arms close around her.

“I love you, I love you,” he whispers into her neck, and a second later, when her shoulder feels wet, she starts crying too.

 “What happened? I can’t remember-Oliver, how did we get out?”

 He holds hers tight, and she’s dizzy and still mostly out-of-it, but his reluctance to let go of her makes her chest ache.

 “Oliver?”

 “I had to get to the driver’s seat to get us out of there. I left you back there.” She can hear the self-loathing in his voice, has known Oliver Queen enough to understand the depths of his self-hatred, and she will not let him shoulder any blame for this. “I left you back there and you got shot,” he says again.

 “Hey.” She tries to make him pull away from her, but he’s still firmly wrapped around her, his forehead on her shoulder. To show him she means business, she pulls him gently by the hair. He pulls away, his wet blue eyes meeting hers.

“What you did-“ she palms his cheek.“Hey, look at me. What you did is save both of us.” Her throat feels raw and speaking so much is making her light headed, but this has to get through to him. “So, thank you.”

 “You were in surgery for a while,” he says, his voice hoarse. He covers her hand on his cheeks, brings it to his lips to kiss her palm and the action make her stomach clench.  “Felicity, I…”

There are silent tears rolling down his cheek even as his thumbs wipe her tears away, trail over her cheek and her lips. He drinks her in like a man dying from thirst, and she only hopes she can stop crying so she can see him more clearly.

 “I’m okay now,” she says. Her arm feels sluggish and heavy as she brings it back to his cheek, but she can’t _not_ touch him right now.  Not when he looks like this. “I love you. I’m okay.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he says.

  

She hears the doctor’s voice as if from the end of a tunnel.

 Or from the top of a mountain, where the wind is too loud to make out the words she enunciated, and this is one instance where Felicity is not glad she’s a genius.

 She knew there was something very wrong the minute she met Oliver’s red-rimmed eyes after his apology. She knew what it was when the Doctor walked in, needles rattling in the plastic box in her hand. And then she felt it. Or rather, didn't.

 She doesn’t need to hear it.

 “The path of the first bullet made came very close to your spinal cord, Miss Smoak. There was…some damage, between vertebrae T8 and T9. There is no easy way to say this…”

She hears Oliver breath in sharply beside her, but she doesn’t turn her head. Only when he does it again does she realize he’s trying tokeep himself in check. Her mother holds her hand, her other one squeezing the life out of Oliver's arm. Her family is grieving but everything…everything feels very far away.

“The damage to the nerves in the area is the reason you couldn’t feel the needles earlier.”

“I have genius level IQ,” she says. She doesn’t mean to sound so angry (she _is_ angry, so god damn angry, for a multitude of reasons-but this woman isn't to blame). She still doesn’t want to be treated with kid gloves. She needs to know the facts, now.  “I don’t have a degree in Neuroscience but I can understand enough, so… just tell me.”

 _“At the moment the_ _injury appears to be incomplete,_ _meaning-I’m sure you know what this means, but it’s still hospital policy for me to explain this way, I’m sorry. There might still be intact nerves crossing the injury site. This is a good thing, with time and physical therapy there’s a chance some level of_ _sensation…”_

Her eyes glaze over. She barely feels Oliver's hand when it touches her shoulder, the warmth and weight for once don't provide any comfort.

The doctor keeps talking, her words now directed mostly at Oliver and her mom. Her mom tearfully nods, eating up the hope the woman is trying to give them but Felicity feels utterly hopeless. The anger abaits and all that's left is this terrible cold, this realization that things are going to change-no, that they already have, perhaps forever, and she wasn't even aware of it.

She wonder if this is what Oliver felt when the Gambit went down.

 


	2. Chapter 2

She sleeps as fitfully as he used to these days. Guilt eats him alive.

Her brow knots in her sleep, and her shoulders shake, but he doesn’t wake her. They told him her body needs all the rest it can get.

He adjusts her pillows, brings her Big Belly, clothes from their apartment, her tablet…he tries to take care of her and she smiles and thanks him,  but all the while, the knowledge of what he’s keeping from her hammers away at him.

It grows like an ulcer, and every time he sees her in pain, it erodes him further.

A nurse dropped her breakfast in his way in one morning, and the noise of the metal tray banging on the floor sent Felicity into a panic until she realized it was just an accident. The man was embarrassed afterward, and he repeatedly apologized until she told him it was fine, but he noticed the slight trembling of her hands the rest of the morning.

It’s a fear he never wanted to see in her.

He can’t stop thinking of different ways it could have gone. If he had waited a second longer, he would have gotten that bullet, not her. If he’d proposed at home, instead of in front of all those people. If he’d proposed the second they returned instead of waiting so long.

He wonders if this is what Barry meant about changing the timeline.

He wonders if keeping his son a secret from the woman he loves more than anything is the reason why she’s lying in a hospital bed, why she can’t feel her legs and might never…

He lets his head hang down between his shoulders.  It’s too cruel, to think she’d be the one to pay for his mistakes.

“Hey,” her tired voice croaks. “Can’t sleep? There’s room here.”

“I’m okay,” he says softly, trying on a smile for her sake. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmm, good. Dopey.” She moans softly as she twists in bed. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, everything’s fine.”

The truth tastes like acid where it sits on the tip of his tongue.

“Go back to sleep.”

 

X X X

 

She’s quiet on the drive home.

Truth be told, she’s been quiet for the last few weeks. Between all the doctors and visits and press releases, checking in on Palmer Tech from her hospital bed regardless of Oliver begging her to rest, and the time at the rehabilitation clinic learning how to take care of herself, it’s not strange they haven’t had time to really talk.

Felicity takes the news of her paralysis in stride.

She tells herself doctors are optimistic she can recover muscle function with enough therapy. She tells herself that Darhk is still out there, still coming after Oliver and the team and they need her.

Thea, Laurel and Digg have been patrolling non-stop the past few weeks. She only managed to convince Oliver to leave a few times the whole time she was hospitalized. He practically lived at the hospital with her.

She can see how her accident has affected him…the circles underneath his eyes, his bulging muscles –which would otherwise be a treat, but not when she knows he hasn’t been eating well. He’s spreading himself thin, taking care of her and hunting for Darhk, and she won’t be another burden for him to bear.

Oliver needs to see she is all right.

So she makes herself take the news in stride, and now she’s determined to fake it ‘til she can make it.

  _“Well, now you won’t have to worry about me going out in the field,” she’d said flippantly, after the doctor had left to find her specialist._

_Oliver had broken down crying, sorrow carving apologies out of him which he breathed into her stomach._

It was a little crazy how in that moment, feeling Oliver tremble and shake on her lap made her feel more pain that the very real possibility that she might never walk again.

She’d desperately wanted to erase the guilt in his eyes, which eclipsed the love she’d gotten used to finding there.

He still has that look.

Even if he’s never left himself fall apart like that again. He’s been nothing but supportive and strong, so strong. But she knows how guilty he feels, even if it’s senseless.

She can feel it like a solid wall between them.

She turns her head to look at him, and he gives her one of those careful smiles he uses so often now, for her benefit.

She knows they’re not real, but he’s trying so hard she lets it go quietly. His eyes are dimmer these days, his words as few and far between as hers. The whole team is quiet and careful when they visited her, but it’s Oliver’s silence that hurts her the most.

She looks back out the window, the buildings blurring by.

Her mom is the only one who keeps talking to her like she always has, as rash and inappropriate as ever. Even between tears, she talked about getting her a cuter wheelchair and longer skirts, and she loves her for it.

“Felicity,” his voice shakes her out of it, and she’s surprised to see they’re already in the parking lot of his building, and he’s waiting to pick her up.

She nods, and he slips an arm beneath her legs and behind her back, swiftly bringing her out of the car. She thinks briefly back to joking about him getting more exercise in carrying her around everywhere, and the uncomfortable silence that followed.

Hey, if anyone was allowed to joke about it, it was her, right?

Regardless, she keeps quiet, lets him put her down in her chair and roll her inside the building and up to the loft.

 

“What do you want for dinner?” he asks her, once she’s wearing her comfiest pajama pants and his shirt (and putting those on by herself is a feat she feels pretty proud of, you’d never think your legs were heavy until you had to actually, physically, lift them.)

“I’m not really hungry,” she tells him, looking forward to just curling up in their own bed, finally.

“Felicity, please,” he insists. “You haven’t eaten anything all day-“

“I ate some hospital jell-o,” she interrupts brightly, pursing her lips in that way she _knows_ he finds adorable.

She just wants to sleep.

“ _This morning_. It’s 7pm,” he drops a kiss to her forehead before making his way to the kitchen. “I’m making you something, okay?”

She simply sighs.

It’s another hour until she’s in bed, disgustingly full of –okay, actually a really good pasta that made her realize she was, in fact, hungry. (Not that she’d ever tell Oliver that).

He slips into bed, his arms instantly slipping around her. She sighs, content.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Achey,” she says, burrowing further into the fabric of his t-shirt. “They said it was normal. Nerves going haywire and all that.”

He brings her closer, kissing her hair. This is probably in the Top10 list of Times Felicity Smoak has been Super Comfy. Capital letters. She loves Oliver but if he keeps talking she might have to gag him.

“And how are _you_ feeling?” He squeezes her shoulder gently. “We haven’t really talked about what happened. The accident or-“

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she says, and his words break her calm.  “We almost died again. It sucks. I’m in a wheelchair. Double sucks.”

She sits up as much as she can so she can look him straight in the eyes. She needs him to understand this, “Darhk is still out there. The city needs you, as the Green Arrow and future mayor-“

“Felicity, you are more imp-“

“My company needs me. The team needs me. This is...strange and painful and scary, _yes,_ but Oliver…I can live with it. And so can you.” She can do this, she _can_. “We don’t have the luxury of falling apart. _You_ told me that once.”

She lays back down on her side of the bed.

“I was wrong,” he tells her softly, but she pretends not to listen.


	3. Chapter 3

 

He can’t tell her, not now.

Not when she’s adjusting and in pain. But lying to her when he leaves…just one afternoon, a single Saturday afternoon to visit William, kills him inside.

“I heard about your Felicity in the news. I’m sorry.” Samantha offers him the words the minute he steps inside, but they’re empty to him, meaningless. He can’t blame her, he knows. Lying to Felicity was his choice even when she gave the option. He could have lied to Samantha, but at the moment it was more palatable to lie to the bright blonde woman who took him into her heart than risk her leaving.

Not a month afterward, sitting on the hard, cold plastic of the ER’s chairs, he realized the sick sense of humor the universe seemed to have with him.

“Is William upstairs?” He asks instead of answering her, because what could he say?  
“Yeah, he just got back from a baseball game with his friends.”

He nods and climbs the stairs.

 Every smile his son pulls out of him is tinged with the sorrow of his fiancé at home, hurt, waiting for him and believing that he was handling his campaign. He’s scum. He doesn’t deserve her arms wrapped around him at night but can’t explain why he tenses when she pulls herself closer to him.

 

X X X

 

It’s on her third day back at Palmer Tech that the pain in her back becomes unbearable.

She returned to work even after Oliver begged her not to and her mom threatened to sit next to her desk in case she needed anything, but a solid two months had passed since the accident, and she needed to move, to _do_ something.

But right now her back is killing her.

She’s been taking her meds and moving every once in a while and generally doing everything she’s _supposed_  to, but still, she can barely look at the papers in front of her without her sight blurring from the pain.  Felicity knows when to accept she’s lost, so she tells Jerry to call her a car to bring her home.

He asks if he should call Oliver, too, and she wonders if her fiancé actually put her assistant on Felicity-watch. She tells him not to.

She realizes that’s a mistake once she’s inside their apartment and a flight of stairs stands between her and the second floor of the loft.

Felicity has never felt so useless.

 She’s been relying on Oliver to get her to their room every day, to get her to work, to freaking put her in the bathtub-and now that he’s busy she can’t get to their room on her own and lay down. And her back still really hurts.

 

When Oliver comes home there are dried tear tracks on her cheeks and she’s fast asleep on the couch.

His gentle hand on her shoulder wakes her up.

“Felicity,” he brushes hair behind her ear. “What are you doing here?”

“I came home early from work.”

“I know that, your assistant told me when _I went to pick you up from work._ Why didn’t you call me?”

“I can’t call you every time I need to move, Oliver,” she tells him, sitting up.

“What are you doing down here?” he asks, and a knot forms in her throat. It only takes him a second to figure it out. “ _Oh, hon_.”

She won’t look up at him. She can’t see the pity in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve thought about it-“

“I think I should start using the guest bedroom,” she says.

“Okay. I’ll move our things tonight,” he says, not even commenting on her wording. She’s been trying very hard to keep things as normal as possible, but things like this bring to the forefront how dissimilar everything really is. But she can do it. For them, she can.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 “She doesn’t have much of an appetite these days,” he tells Donna, sitting in their kitchen. She just got there half an hour ago after her trip back to Vegas for more clothes and to quit her job –a decision she had yet to tell Felicity about. She was moving to Star City to be closer to her daughter.

“Did you make the recipe I sent you? I had to bribe our bartender to give it to me. She loved those nachos growing up.”

Felicity had told him all about having those when she was a _baby_ , on the nights her father stayed working late and Donna had to take her to the casino she worked in. They’d laughed about it while she moved the toppings around her plate without actually eating.

“Yeah, she only took a bite or two and then went to bed, I-“

“Stop before she tells you to dress up in a food costume or put chicken nuggets on your abs,” Felicity says, coming into the kitchen. He can see she’s stung that they’re speaking about her, but she hides it well. It scares him how good she’s gotten at hiding things from him, and then realizes he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. He’s keeping so much more from her.

“I wouldn’t suggest chicken nuggets, Felicity.” Donna leans down to kiss her cheek. “Honestly, honey, I thought I raised you in Vegas.”

“I’m not five, mom _, Oliver_. You don’t have to check my plate after I’m done eating.”

“We’re just worried about you, baby,” Donna says.

“Which is why you quit your job to come baby me 24/7?” Felicity asks bitingly. He knows Felicity never had the best relationship with her mom, but he’s never heard her use that tone on her.

“Hon-“

“I don’t need you here!” Felicity winces at her own tone, before she lowers her voice. “I’m sorry. But mom, odds are I’m going to stay like this so I need to learn how to do things by myself.”

“We’re your family, Felicity, that means you don’t have to.”

“I’m just saying that you... _you both,”_ she looks up at him, and the pain he sees reflected in her irises squeezes his heart inside his chest _. “_ You should stop treating this like a cold I’m going to get over.”  

She’s close to tears, and there are already a few rolling Donna’s cheeks, but Felicity leaves the room before he can take a single step toward her.

 

X X X 

 

She wakes up to gentle taps on her shoulder. She’s been back at work for two weeks, and after the first five days she was done with the more pressing meetings, and was steadily working to looking at a free-of-meetings future if she kept it up. Which was not what she wanted, at all.

The searches for Darhk after a while became mind numbing instead of the activity her mind needed to keep busy. And for the first time she was actually starting to get bored of coding. So, you know, she actually wants to go to work the following day. But Felicity swears she fell asleep thirty minutes ago, not a full six hours.

The gentle taps don’t stop.

“Felicity,” Oliver shakes her a little and she furrows her brow. “Hey, wake up”

“No,” she grumbles. “I know I said I loved being back to work but-” the room is still dark when she opens one eye.

“Honey,” Oliver says gently.

“What…oh.” He doesn’t need to turn on the lights for her to know. She can feel it now, the warmth. Her face heats up.

The room is suddenly blindingly light. She sits up and puts on her eyeglasses and then she can see the stain in their sheets, right below her. The stain on the side of his boxers.

She has to swallow saliva down her dry throat to keep the tears at bay. _She wet the bed._

“Let’s get you changed, okay?” Oliver asks, already in front of her with a new pair of underwear and pajama pants.

“Come on,” he grabs her under the armpits and pushes her up the bed, but she’s limp like a rag doll. She can feel her cheeks burning as he helps her get changed, easily lifting her and sitting her down in the chair once he’s done. She watches him as he takes off his soiled briefs and gets into new ones. And she’s just mortified.

She looks away from him and towards the clock. It’s 3:20 am. She slept right through her alarm. She was supposed to use the catheter, every six hours or so, and she’d been doing fine, waking up in time for a week. But tonight she slept right through it.

“I should’ve woken up to-“

“You were tired. It’s fine,” Oliver says, but she doesn’t meet his eyes. He quickly takes the sheets off the bed.

He’s so diligent about it. Flipping the mattress and putting clean sheets on and meanwhile she just sits there and wants to cry. What if she never gets better? What if she keeps fucking up and sleeping through her alarm and Oliver has to take care of her of her like this for the rest of their lives? They told her she wouldn’t be a burden, that she would get better and even if she never was quite like before, she could live a normal life. She would adjust and learn. They lied.

“Hey,” he calls out to her, “in sickness and in health, right?”

“We’re not married,” she says quickly. This isn’t what he signed up for when he proposed. And she isn’t sick, not really. Her body is damaged, her nerves are wrecked and she can’t walk; this isn’t a sickness, it’s her life now. He looks oddly at her, but she can barely notice it through the sheen of tears burning her eyes.

“Not _yet_ ,” he says. “But you’ve taken care of me through so many things, this is noth-“

“It’s pee,” she interrupts him, voice hoarse. “You’re cleaning up pee.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “And maybe you’ll return the favor when I’m eighty years old and you’re still a young and beautiful seventy-five-”

“How can you make a line about pee?” she asks him, wiping her face from the tears.

“It’s an accident Felicity. You’re adjusting, it’s going to happen.”

“It’s embarrassing,” she says.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed in front of me,” he tells her, walking over to her and leaning on the arms of the wheelchair.  “Never,” he says, quickly kissing her lips. Her chest feels tight at the action, and she tries very hard not to think about other things that will be different now.

“Let’s get you back in bed, okay? You have a big day tomorrow.” She nods, and he helps her. “I’m going to throw those in the wash, okay? I’ll be right back.” When she hears the door close after him she finally releases the sob building in her throat, she allows herself that.


	5. Chapter 5

 The afternoon light filters through the large windows of their room, illuminating the space and lighting up her hair, spread out on her pillow.

He reads quietly next to her, her soft breaths and the turning of the pages the only noise in their space.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, and he startles. He didn’t know she was awake, and it’s baffling for a moment that he did not realize it by her breathing.  “I’m frustrated and I’m taking it out on you and my mom and you don’t deserve it.”

He does. He deserves her anger and her disdain but she doesn’t know yet why.

“It’s okay. You have nothing to apologize for.”

She turns around, carefully moving her body until she’s cuddled up to his side.

 “Should I wake you later for dinner?” He’s learned his lesson in trying to watch over her eating habits. After a call to her doctor –which Felicity probably knows about- he’s backed off and got Donna to do the same. She’s leading this charge.

“Depends on what you’re making,” she says, a teasing smile on her lips. He misses those smiles on her.

“What do you want?” He’d find a way to give her the moon if she asked. “Say the words and it’s yours.”  She curls up further in his arms and he drags his hand up and down her back.

“Mmm…Would it insult your inner Chef if I wanted to order Domino’s?”

He chuckles. He rests his hand on the small of her back, close to the now healed exit wound one of the bullets left in her. Having her this close is a reminder of the gift it is to watch her wake up every morning. His breath still catches every time he remembers the machine flat lining…Oliver shakes his head.

“Pizza it is,” he says, already remembering her favorite kind from their months traveling. She purses her lips, looking up at him with eyes she knows he can’t deny. ( _It’s a superpower, Oliver, like when you take off your shirt before you ask me for money_.)

“Anything else?” he asks.

“Can you get us some wings too? Oh, and those cinnamon sticks for dessert!”

He represses a smile.

“Of course,” he tugs the fleece blanket above her shoulders, drops a kiss to her forehead, and settles back into bed, intent on finishing this chapter of his book. These moments of domesticity slip in the fissures of their life as vigilantes, and he loves it, even as the neat boxes in which he compartmentalizes the fact he is a father and Felicity is his future wife and they don’t know about each other, begins to come away.

 

X X X

 

Oliver spends the night putting ramps up to her station in the lair.

She thinks he’s patrolling with the rest of the team, after a night of pizza and Star Wars (just this one, she hacked for herself) but she figures it out the next afternoon, when he picks her up from work with dark bags under his eyes, and takes her straight to the lair.

Shiny black metal ramps cover every set of steps.

The entire team is down there, getting ready for patrol. Warmth spreads through her chest when she see Oliver’s work. She’s intent on trying them, but she knows the minute she’s pushing the wheels up the ramp she won’t make it. It’s been a long day and her arms are burning and any minute now she’s going to start rolling backwards-

“I got you,” Thea says, and pushes her the last few feet until she’s in front of her computers. She skips away right afterwards, and Felicity looks at Oliver from the side of her eye. He’s looking at her carefully; and it pains her she’s made him feel like that.

“Thank you,” she mouths to him. She’s missed this.

 

“Felicity here, Team?”

“This is Green Arrow, I’m on the corner of Main.”

“Black Canary, take the next right, two blocks and turn to Main.”

“Copy that.”

“Speedy?”

“Right behind her.”

“Spartan?”

 “Bringing up the rear.”

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road. Mama’s missed her babies.”

It’s the first time since the accident that she completely feels like herself.


	6. Chapter 6

 

 “I’m buying a mechanical one, actually. Dr.Wells…I mean I know he was evil and not the best example but his wheelchair was kind of awesome,” she tells Caitlin, her cellphone on speaker. “And just thinking of the ways I could change it-“

“Hello? Someone’s here to visit her favorite aunt!” Dig’s voice comes from outside the door, and she gets the first real smile since she got out of the clinic.

“Caitlin, I’ve got to go, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Let me get the door,” Oliver says, appearing out of nowhere. Literally, how does he do it?

“I’ve got it,” she tells him, rolling herself to the front door. Dig looks like a giant from where she’s sitting once she opens it, but she’s much more interested in the little girl in his arms.

“Sara,” she makes grabby hands at the baby, who smiles when Dig places her in her arms.

“Felicity, how are you feeling?”

“Peachy,” she says, trying to maneuver her chair and the toddler in her lap. Dig takes over, rolling her and she doesn’t say anything.

She’s happy to see –she will fight anyone who says she’s not- her niece, the baby girl is the first person who literally can’t see a difference between her before and after accident selves.

Not five minutes later she can hear Dig and Oliver speaking in the kitchen in hushed tones. She knows they’re hushed because it’s an open floor plan, and the sound carries perfectly well. She’s actually surprised Oliver hasn’t turned on the faucet if he doesn’t want her to listen in that much.

She’s too distracted to realize Sara has crawled away, and when she looks, the little girl is too close to the windows for her liking. The floor to ceiling windows, which granted, are locked. But still on their fourteenth floor.

“Sara, come here!” She rolls herself toward her but Sara squeals and runs away, kicking off a shoe in the process.

She leans forward to pick it up, but it’s too far away. She doesn’t notice slipping forward in the chair, and when she stretches her arm a bit more-

“Felicity!” The sudden band of Oliver’s arm in front of her is the only thing stopping her from falling face first to the floor.

“I’m okay,” she says, her heart beating fast. He grabs her under the armpits and pushes her back on the chair. Her pride tastes bitter when she swallows it.

“I’m sorry,” Dig tells her.

“It’s fine,” she says, smiling and brushing it off. She doesn’t meet Oliver’s eyes.

 

X

 

“I’m not really hungry, Oliver,” she says. Her back aches so much she’s getting queasy.

“You have to eat _, honey_ -“

“And don’t call me that,” she bites out, then runs her hand through her hair, sighing. “I’m sorry, it’s just-“

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” she tells him, frustrated. “ _Don’t let me get away with things just because I’m_ -“ she bangs her hand on the metal at the sides of the wheelchair, and it feels so good that she doesn’t stop. She turns her hands into fists and slams them over and over, rattling the chair-

“Stop. Stop!” Oliver closes his hands around her wrists.  “You’re hurting yourself,” he says sadly. She just cries.

 

 X

 

"How could this be your fault?”

“We were in that street because of me! If I hadn’t-“

“Hadn’t what? Proposed? If you hadn’t proposed I’d still be walking, is that what you’re trying to say-“

“Yes!”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I should’ve just helped him, as Oliver Queen-“

“I told you not to! And I was proud of you for-“

“If I had, then maybe-“

“Only you could find ways to feel guilty about this!” She exclaims, her throat raw. “This is not your fault!”

“Felicity-“

“And I’m the one who’s on a fucking wheelchair, so could you stop looking like the world ended for _you_?”

She can see the moment she breaks his heart.

“Oh God. _Oliver_ -“

“I think we need to take a breather, okay?”

Ten minutes later he walks back into the room, kneels in front of her, and wraps his arms around her waist.


	7. Chapter 7

_A month ago._

_The air in the loft smelled of turkey and spices._

_Oliver had insisted in hosting a Thanksgiving dinner, and inviting absolutely everyone._

_She sat at the head of the table, her mom to her left, Oliver’s empty chair to her right. Lance sat next to her mother, she noted, then Laurel and Thea on the other end of the table, Lyla, baby Sara in her arms, and Dig._

_She went around the table, biting her lip as she looked at her family. She noticed her mom’s hand on Captain Lance’s arm, and how he looked at her. She’s not sure she’d ever seen the man smile quite so much. Laurel and Thea were deep in conversation, laughing every once in awhile. Lyla and Dig tried to get some words out of baby Sara; Dig making the most ridiculous face while his daughter giggled._

_She turned toward the kitchen, meeting Oliver’s eyes. A smile spread across her face, one he mirrored. Neither of them had felt so fully content since they returned to Star City._

_There was still an evil organization to stop, sure, and baddy-of-the-week probably had her in his sights but this….moment’s like this were what made it all worth it._

_“Turkey should be ready in just a second,” Oliver announced as he walked out of the kitchen, another bottle of wine in his hands. “Let me refill that,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek while he filled the wine glass in her hand._

 

_X_

 

“So, how are the wedding plans going?”

She guesses the questions is not completely out of nowhere, given they’re hosting a party and everybody is making small talk. Still, it throws her.

“We’ve sort of pressed pause…wait until Felicity feels better,” Oliver answers Lance’s question, getting her out of the spot.

“Of course, health comes first,” he agrees, and Felicity leaves with the excuse to check on the food both of them know she can do nothing about.

 

He notices before she does, of course. How the table is too high for her to eat comfortably from her wheelchair. Everyone is filing into their seats already, and she’s calculating if she’s too tired to get herself into her chair.

“Give me a second,” Oliver says, putting the salad down but she waves him away. “Felicity-“

“I’m fine,” she says, a little more loudly than she intends to. “I’ve got it, I can do it,” she rolls towards the table.  She needs to start getting herself places, instead of waiting for Oliver to lift her up. And she can start now.

She stops the chair at her usual spot at the head of the table. It’s such a small distance-she just has to lock her elbows and swing her body into place. The wheelchair rolls backwards at the last second and she falls, landing painfully on her side.

Time Stops.

She couldn’t do it.

“Felicity!” She feels a pair of hands close over her upper arms. “Up you go,” Lance says as he helps her get on the chair.

“You okay?”

She looks up at him, at every single one of her friends-her family- staring at her with varying degrees of pity in her eyes.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, her voice hoarse. Lance notices and draws attention away from her as he starts telling some story about the SCPD in the 90’s. It does nothing to stop the pounding embarrassment. _She couldn’t do it._

 

X

 

“You need to stop,” she says. The humiliation from dinner still thrums through her body, and she can’t take Oliver trying to make her feel better. Not right now.

“They’re our family, they understand-“

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“You need to,” he says, and…that’s it.

“You don’t know what I need! You can’t!,” she yells. “And I hate how you’re acting!  You think about every single thing you’re going to say before you say it like I’m too goddamn vulnerable.  I know I can’t walk, but I’m not broken!”

 “Felicity…”

 “I’m not a baby either.” Now that she’s started she can’t stop. Her heart beats loud and her breath quickens and it feels good, to finally let go. To finally speak up. “-I’ve been quiet because I know all you do makes you feel better but I can’t take it anymore. You’re not my boyfriend- my _fiancé_.” She doesn’t mean to make the word sound mocking, but it does. “You’re my baby sitter. And I hate it. And if I lash out at you, you take it because you think you deserve it. Like this is your fault! _Stop_ doing that. Stop treating me like this!”

“Felicity…”

“And the worst part is I can’t even be by myself anymore.” She’s breathing hard when she’s done, sweat running down her back. Her throat hurts. “I need you for everything…”

“I thought the point of getting married was not having to be by ourselves anymore. I thought when you said yes, you agreed to want to spend your life with me. Is that it? Is that why you haven’t mentioned our engagement since the accident?,“ he asks, his voice low and hoarse and it hurts, down deep in the most visceral way.

He’s crying and, great, she’s crying, too and it’s all just--it’s a fucking mess. She’s a mess. And that’s not his fault. He didn’t deserve any of that.

“No….No, I-“

“You meant it,” he says, sitting down in their bed. He hangs his head.  “I don’t know what to do,” he confesses. “I don’t know what to say or how I can’t make it better. I’m _trying_.  And I’m sorry if I’ve made this about me.”

She feels horrible, because he really hasn’t. He’s been at her beck and call since she woke up. He’s cooked her meals and helped her get dressed and been her human elevator. He’s made his life about her and maybe that’s the problem. Maybe she’s the problem for hurting him for it.

“You don’t have to feel like you need to be strong for me or that you need to put up with me taking care of you just so I can feel better. It’s not about that,” he says hopelessly, letting the tears fall unbidden from his eyes. He is so raw in front of her, so deeply vulnerable it burns her. “I want to… _I just want to help you._ But if you don’t want me to _-_ ”

“You can’t help me, Oliver!” she says, a lone tear rolling down her cheek. “That’s the thing. I feel so weak since the accident, different…I _am_ different. And you treat me with kid gloves! Like I’m going to break and- and why? Because you can’t deal with me on a wheelchair-Because you think it’s somehow your fault? It’s not! This isn’t your goddamned fault!”

“You’re wrong!“

“How cou-“

“Central City!” He’s breathless. “Central City.”


	8. Chapter 8

  _“This isn’t your goddamned fault!”_

_“You’re wrong!“_

_“How cou-“_

_“Central City!”_ _He’s breathless. “Central City.”_

 

It throws her, stops the flow of words for a minute and she’s glad.

 “What? What are you talking about?” Her heart beats fast, and she feels on the brink of something she’s not sure she wants to discover. “Oliver-“

“Nothing. It’s nothing, I shouldn’t have said anything.” He presses his fists against his eyes, and that more than anything sets off alarm bells in her head.

“It’s this about what you’ve been keeping from me?” She asks, and the way he flinches is answer enough. Felicity feels helpless.  And it’s not just the wheelchair anymore, the feel of her limbs dragging her down –it’s her fiancé himself.

“You knew?” He looks up at her, tortured.

 “I knew there was _something_ , even if you said it didn’t matter.” It’s the truth. He is a terrible liar with those he cares about. “Oliver…whatever it is, this is not your fault.” That’s something she needs to get through to him. Even through her worst, the pain and the falls –she can’t have Oliver blaming himself, getting back into his old mindset and shouldering guilt that’s not his. She won’t allow it.

“Barry did something,” he says instead, the change of topic in the conversation is enough to give her whiplash, but she’ll much rather solve a mystery than fight.

“Barry-“

“Barry…I don’t know, he said he traveled in time to change things. The fight with Vandal Savage didn’t end well the first time around.”

“Barry traveled in time….” Her brain is bombarded by ideas, theories, the familiar need to understand making her almost buzz with excitement. “I guess it’s theoretically possible-Oliver what is it?“

“He changed things, but he said if you mess with the timeline, it messes back,” he says.   

“What did Barry-“

“It was me! I changed something that I knew I shouldn’t have. And this is the punishment.” He sounds so sure of himself when he says it, looking at the floor, as if he can’t bear to meet her eyes. It makes her chest constrict –and reignites the flare of anger that kept her going earlier.

 “That’s not fair to me,” she says. “Have you ever thought that I’m a person, not your personal guilt machine-”

“You’re everything to me,” he confesses, and she’s heard him say he loves her, and he’s whispered his devotion against her sweat slick skin dozens of times –but it’s never sounded this desperate.

Her mid is still reeling with the possibility of time travel, and anger at Oliver feeling her very own little island is all about punishing him –for what? He doesn’t give her time to ask.

“Before the island…there was a girl,” he says. The words stop her cold. It’s the last thing she’d thought he’d say. “It was a one night stand, I was with Laurel at the time…” It seems as though the very words are ripped off his throat, and dread starts to crawl through her limbs, even the ones she can’t feel.

“I got her pregnant.”

White noise.

That’s all that fills her ear as she waits with baited breath for an answer she doesn’t truly want.

“She told me she lost the baby not a week afterwards, and she moved away and _I believed_ her.” His eyes are still firmly trained on the floor, and she wants to tell him to shut up, just _stop_. “But when we went to Central City…”

He finally looks up to her, his eyes red-rimmed and begging, begging for something she can’t give. She knows, and it’s devastating. He doesn’t need to finish the sentence for her to feel the betrayal, growing red and angry in her chest, a beast she can’t control.

He knows she understands.

“His name is William, he’s nine.”

“Your… _son,”_ she says, as if saying it out loud will her grasp it better, but she’s utterly lost.

“I’m sorry,” he says, kneeling in front of her, his hands on her knees, and she reels back. She’s never wanted to get away from him before – _but she can’t_ -she can’t process.

“ _You have a- how long have you…_ “ words have never failed her until now. “You have a son.”

 

 

The words send a shiver down his spine. He’s terrified, he’s never been more terrified, but the relief at her finally knowing the truth is so violent he almost weeps.

“You’ve been…lying to me… _for months_.”

“I couldn’t tell you,” he says, and he’s going to tell her how Samantha ordered him not to. _My hands were tied_ , he wants to say. But by God he’s done lying to her. “I couldn’t lose you.”

He meets her eyes, shining with tears that spill down her cheeks, and his chest caves in.

“You would have never lost me for telling me the truth,” she says, but she doesn’t _know._

“Barry said I told you, the first time. And we were done and it got my head out of the game, and things went badly. When he…changed things, I was scared of losing you. I- I couldn’t-”

“ _I have no idea_ what Barry saw in his time travel adventures but I would have _never_ broken up with you for having a son. Never.” She sobs, the air going out of her all at once. “We were a team.” Her voice is so small it breaks him, but she flinches away when he tries to wipe her cheeks.

His heart falls through his ribcage, impossibly heavy.

“We are a team,” he promises, but she won’t meet his eyes.

“I was wrong,” she says, quietly. It unnerves him. She’s never quiet, never so small. “You _should_ feel guilty.”

He closes his eyes, the tears finally falling.

“But not about this,” he hears her slap the wheelchair, the sound ringing through their quiet room. “I don’t care why this happened, if it was some weird time travel payback shit- _I don’t care_.” He opens his eyes, and his bad knee starts to sting from his position on the floor, but he can’t move.

“But the fact that you could lie to me… _for so long_?”

“Felicity-“

She shakes her head. He takes her hand –he can’t not touch her- and that’s all it takes for her to notice the ring on her finger, their promise of a future together. Fear chokes him.

“Felicity...”

 She shakes off his hand, and slips the ring off.

“No,” he pleads, breathing hard. She stretches her hand, offering him the piece of jewelry but he can’t take it. He’s not strong enough, even if he deserves every ounce of pain he’s feeling. It’s nothing next to what he’s done to her.

That would be the heaviest thing he’s ever picked up, and he can’t do it. For the life of him, he can’t.

His hand closes around hers, keeping the ring inside her grasp.

“Please,” he asks, and uses his free hand to desperately cup her face, “I’m begging you, Felicity.”

She’s crying, but he’s the one who can’t breathe.

“I can’t,” she says.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, “I’m sorry, honey, please.” She tries to thrust her hand forward again but he grabs it more firmly, the ring still inside it. He can’t accept this is how it ends, that this is how he loses her.

“Let go,” she says. “Let go-you’re hurting me!”

He opens his hand at once, like he’s been burnt, and sees –red on her palm- the imprint of the ring.

It lands somewhere underneath the bed, but neither of them cares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took so long! But I think now that the first photos of Felicity on a wheelchair have come out it's the perfect time to update this story (also updated the summary). Hope you liked it!


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